A Glut of Glitches

Mistakes have been made,

But no one will be blamed…

“These things happen.”

Maybe some are my fault;

It’s hard to know exactly

Where the fingers slip

And the glitches begin…

Symptoms of the po-mo age,

And it could be worse–

It could be raining.

I should disconnect,

Go gridless and rest,

Get some exercise…

Emerge from my nest

Of electrical tech

Into the sunshine.

That sounds sublime,

But I’d feel so alone

Without all the souls

Who live in my phone.